Vienna Waits For You
by Startled Boris
Summary: The great Austrian Empire, the great power of Central Europe, musician, composer, benefactor, employer and spectacle-wearer. Join us for tales throughout the centuries. Not in chronological order. Not for the faint-hearted. Not for people who don't like waltzes, pasta, dead emperors or men in dresses (the latter two may be the same thing).
1. Tales from the Vienna Woods

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not from my imagination but from the imagination of Hidekaz Himaruya and therefore, any relationship to people or events real or not is purely unintentional…**

 **Story: Vienna Waits for You**

 **Genre: Comedy**

 **Characters: Austria, Hungary, Italy and many others**

 **Synopsis: The great Austrian Empire, the great power of Central Europe, musician, composer, benefactor, employer and spectacle-wearer. Join us for tales throughout the centuries. Not in chronological-order. Not for the faint-hearted. Not for people who don't like waltzes, pasta, dead emperors or men in dresses (the latter two may be the same thing).**

 **Author's Notes: This is basically A Day In the Life but with Austria. A snapshot in each chapter of Austria's life and some history for the history geeks. This won't be in chronological order. There will be appearances by other Nations.**

 **Chapter 1: Tales from the Vienna Woods**

The woman had been riding for many days from her homeland of the Hungarian plain, to mountains, rolling pastures and finally to this place. She adjusted her stained travelling cloak and, not for the first time, ensured her quiver was full of arrows. Her crossbow hung from her back, her sword - much sharpened - at her side.

The castle loomed up out of the mist. Countless turrets, towers and arrow-slits built into the thick walls surrounding the edifice told of many battles. Elizaveta Herdevary hesitated and then gee'd her horse on. She had no idea what her new 'master' would be like. Normally Maximillian wasn't a skittish animal but now he reared and snorted. The path gave way to a moat, a drawbridge being the only way across.

Elizaveta looked up at the gothic monstrosity. According to the tourist information leaflet she'd procured back in the nearest town, the castle had been built over 200 years ago to withstand the Ottoman Army. It had certainly seen better days. There were still cannonball marks in the walls. She wondered what the inhabitants were like and what her new master would be like. She was nervous, the Ottoman Empire had taken over half of her country and now she was forced to go and live with the great Austrian empire. She hadn't seen him since they were children. Surely he wasn't still a stuck up prissy kid in spectacles being bullied by Prussia?

She dismounted and patted Maximillian. "Stay," she told him as if he were a dog. He snorted. She walked up to the edge of the moat and noted with relief as she didn't really want to swim the moat and storm the drawbridge (although she could have done), there was a stone pillar which had rope hanging from it. There was a notice on it that said 'no cold callers' in several different languages. She pulled the rope. A loud clanging could be heard coming from inside. She waited.

After twenty minutes, six pulls of the rope and idly aiming her arrows at the castle, a peevish voice yelled, "Not today thank you!"

"I'm not trying to sell anything," she called back.

"Bye then," the voice replied.

"I'm Elizaveta Herdevary, I'm here to stay. You might know me as Hungary," she called.

"Oh for heavens sake. Why didn't you say? You look like a man."

She looked down at her attire. Brown breeches, tunic, armour, crossbow slung over shoulder, sword at her side. "Well you never know who you're going to meet on the road." She answered.

"Can you go back out and pick up some milk?" the voice yelled.

"No! I've travelled far from my country, I'm tired and my horse needs rest, open the bloody drawbridge," she answered. Who were these people?

"Oh how rude. I see." The voice sounded no less peevish. "Just hang on while I find the right button."

The drawbridge dropped and then stuck halfway.

Hungary stared at it. "Can't you open it any further?"

"Can't you jump?"

"My horse can't jump that high."

There was more commotion inside and she could hear the voice arguing with someone else. "Just go, Feli and bring this person in will you? Use the back door. Yes I know they look rough but…" The arguing broke off and then the voice came back, "Excuse me? Will you promise not to kill my servant who I'm sending to bring you round the back?"

"I suppose…"

"I'm sorry but 'I suppose' isn't good enough."

"Oh for heaven's sake! Of course I won't kill him!"

* * *

Over thirty minutes later just as Hungary thought nobody was coming and she was about to give up, a small Italian in a maid's costume, his eyes half closed, wandered up.

"Ve, don't kill me!" The Italian was saying and looked half scared. He had his hands up in surrender.

"I'm Hungary and I won't kill you," Hungary promised.

"You're hungry? We don't have pastaaa but I can cook you something."

"Erm why are you wearing a maid's uniform?"

"Mr Austria thinks I'm a girl."

"Why don't you tell him you're not. And by the way you can call me Elizaveta."

"Wow really?"

"Well yes, just tell him…"

"No I mean I can really call you Elizaveta?"

"As that's my name, yes."

"I'm Feliciano Vargas, but my brother calls me Veneziano."

"You're Italy!" Hungary suddenly exclaimed.

"Well, yes…" He looked a little worried. "I had to come and live with Mr Austria when he took over the top half of my country. But he's okay. He can be bad-tempered and a bit mean and he tells me off for singing and painting and breaking things and he doesn't like spending money and he's sometimes a bit boring but you'll like him…" the Italian said at a hundred miles an hour.

"You're not exactly selling him to me at the moment, Feli, I gotta say."

"I wouldn't want to sell him," the small Italian said in all seriousness. "I wouldn't get very much for him."

"You're funny."

"Ve!" The Italian looked very happy at this and led the way around the back of the castle, very slowly.

Hungary attempted to get the Italian to ride with her on the horse, but he seemed horrified at the idea.

* * *

Finally they came to what appeared to be a door set into the side of the moat. "Ve, we can go in this way. It's the tradesman entrance, Mr Austria says."

"You mean an escape tunnel under the moat? For when you get stuck in a siege perhaps? Very clever…" Hungary said.

Italy looked at her in amazement. "Wow… but no, it's so Mr Austria can avoid his emperors when they come to visit and also we have problems with the drawbridge."

"Right…"

The tunnel smelt of damp and soil and Maximillian did not like it at all. Neither did the Italian maid as he clung to Hungary in the darkness.

"Tell me more about the castle, Feliciano," she asked to take his mind of their journey.

"Ve…well there is Holy Rome. He is really creepy and he stares at me. And then there is Gerald…"

"Holy Rome lives here as well?"

"Oh si. But he is weird."

The whole set-up sounded weird to Hungary but she said nothing. They came to the end of the tunnel and into a large courtyard. "Aren't you worried about enemies finding this tunnel and getting in?" She asked the small Italian.

Feliciano looked at her with big half-closed eyes. His lips trembled. "You mean like… like… that nasty prankster who makes Mr Austria angry?"

Hungary had no idea who he meant, but she changed the subject when she saw he was about to cry. "Is there anywhere I can stable my horse? He's a warhorse and very valuable."

Italy looked at the horse and then at her. "I think so… come with me…" he led to her to the stables, picking up a broom as he went. "We don't have any horses," Italy said as they entered the empty stables.

"Mr Austria doesn't ride?"

"No, he's a rubbish horse-rider. He's a bit scared of horses."

Hungary unsaddled Maximillian and made him comfortable. "Don't you have a stable boy, a groom or anything?" She asked, looking around.

"Mr Austria tries to save money," Feliciano replied.

"So is it just you?" She asked looking his maid's outfit up and down, her eyebrows arched.

"And Gerald the butler. Oh and big Bertha from the village who comes in to cook and clean because I'm not very good at cleaning and Mr Austria doesn't like pasta."

"Well isn't this going to be fun?"

Italy just grinned at her. His eyes actually opened this time.

"Show me the castle then and I'll get some apples and carrots for Maximillian," Hungary said.

Italy led the way into the castle.

It was evident that the place needed a major overhaul. Tattered tapestries hung from the walls of the corridors. The stone floors were chipped but fairly clean, obviously someone - either an inept Italian or this 'Big Bertha' had swept them.

Innumerable corridors led off to stone steps going up and down, with rooms leading off to yet more rooms. The air smelled damp. Spider webs hung from an archway high above Hungary's head. She ducked automatically and shuddered.

Italy seemed oblivious and was actually humming away to himself.

"How big is this place?" Hungary asked.

"Oh very big. I can't remember how many dining rooms and staterooms and bedrooms. We also have a dungeon!" Italy said cheerily.

Hungary gulped. "Is it haunted?" She asked. She didn't believe in such guff, but if anywhere had a ghost, this would be it she thought as they went down a darkened corridor, and then into a large hall.

Italy jumped and turned round, "Do you think so?" He looked scared.

Hungary shrugged in answer and looked around. The hall was massive. As large as the battlefield she'd last fought on. Or perhaps a tad smaller… There was a fireplace at the far end which could easily have accommodated herself and her horse. Full-length windows looked out onto a wide expanse of lawn which had sheep grazing on it - which Hungary did not expect.

A table spanned the length of the room which could easily seat an army. Tatty velvet chairs completed the look. Hungary doubted anyone had ever held a banquet in here for a long time.

"Mr Austria will be here in a minute," Italy said confidently. He was looking around though as if expecting a ghost to appear.

"Why do you have sheep in your garden?" Hungary asked, finally. "And aren't you going to offer me a drink?"

Both these questions seemed to confuse Italy and he ran up and down trying to decide whether to get Hungary a drink or explain the sheep. "The sheep shouldn't be there… drink… oh yes…"

The double doors at the end of the hall were flung open and a very bored looking man in a dusty looking black suit entered.

"Would you like a drink, Sir?"

"I'm a miss," Hungary said, looking him up and down. "Are you Mr Austria?"

"Gerald, Miss," the butler said. He ignored Italy's panicking.

"Ah yes...Gerald. A glass of something wold be nice, thank you."

Hungary didn't think anyone could walk in such a despondent manner, but the butler did. She turned to Italy and caught him by the arm, "What's up with him?" She asked, pointing at Gerald. Although this gloomy castle was probably the reason, she thought.

"Mr Gerald has been Mr Austria's butler for over a hundred years and he's unhappy about his pension rights," Italy said in a rush as if he'd memorised it.

"Ah…A hundred years…" Hungary watched the butler pour her a drink from a decanter on a table hidden in the corner. "Odd…" she assumed the Italian was joking or the butler had been joking when he'd told Italy.

"Mr Austria will be with you soon," Gerald told her as he handed her a crystal glass of wine. He spoke in such a flat, bored voice that Hungary was sure dust and cobwebs had settled on them all before he'd finished his sentence.

"Right. Yes. It would be nice to meet my new erm…" she paused and took a sip of wine. It was as cheap as it looked.

"...Master?" Gerald finished her sentence. His voice was flat but Hungary almost detected a hint of sarcasm. She snorted her rubbish wine down her travelling cloak.

"I bet he's lost. Shall I go find him?" Italy asked.

"Do so, young Feliciano," Gerald nodded. "I will look in the west wing, you take the east."

"Jeez…" Hungary muttered, taking off her cloak and trying to make herself comfortable at the table. A mouse scuttled past her. She felt a little sorry for the poor thing.

* * *

Minutes ticked by. Or perhaps days and years. It was entirely possible in this place to lose a century, Hungary thought. She was about to get up and look for Austria herself when the doors were flung open again.

Hungary slowly rose, expecting Italy or Gerald. It was neither. A man in heavy velvet tunic and a tatty cloak entered the room. He was neither tall nor short, his black hair cut short, not like the fashionable noblemen Hungary had seen in Budapest with their powdered wigs. He looked slim underneath all his finery - which wasn't actually fine. In fact, he looked as if he'd rummaged through a dead nobleman's wardrobe. He had a mole on his left cheek and as Hungary approached to shake his hand, she was surprised to see violet eyes behind round wired spectacles.

She held out her hand, "I'm Elizaveta Herdervary, Nation of Hungary," she said.

He extended his hand cautiously, "Count Roderich Von Hapsburg Edelstein," he answered. "Nation of Austria. The Hapsburg Empire."

Hungary managed not to snigger and squeezed his hand, forgetting her firm grip.

Austria's hand was white when he pulled it away and he gritted his teeth. "Welcome to my abode, Miss Hungary." He held out a long parchment. "Here is a list of your duties."

She took it from him and glanced at it. She was struggling very hard not to laugh.

"You are to clean, cook and look after the livestock. There's also a hole in the roof that needs mending," Austria continued. "You will call me, Sir. Or Master. That is all. I expect you to be at your duties from 6 am tomorrow morning."

Hungary threw the list over her shoulder and, on her way out of the room, slapped Austria on the back so hard he almost fell over. "Yeah right… see you later Roddy," she said.

She almost fell over a short man in a large hat stood in the doorway. "Oh sorry, kid," she said and headed up a winding staircase towards what she hoped was the bedrooms. She really needed a bath.

"Who was that? And why is that young man allowed a crossbow in the castle?" The 'kid' asked Austria angrily.

"That was Hungary. _Miss_ Hungary, and stop waving your hat around, Holy Rome," Austria sighed. Honestly, teenage empires… However, this newcomer had severely disturbed his routine and he doubted very much that things were ever going to be the same again.

 **To be continued...**


	2. Hungarian Rhapsody No 2

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not from my imagination but from the imagination of Hidekaz Himaruya and therefore, any relationship to people or events real or not is purely unintentional…**

 **Acknowledgements and thanks for reviews, faves etc: Eaglefeather1**

 **Vienna Waits for You**

 **Chapter 2: Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2**

"You push her too hard. She's just a fragile little thing!"

Hungary opened her eyes, listening intently as she heard a whiny voice outside her door. That voice couldn't possibly be talking about her surely?

A voice answered the voice. "Don't be utterly ridiculous, Holy Rome. She's not fragile at all. She's a greedy little pig. She's broken half of my china, spilled polish on my harpsichord - God how I wish someone would invent something more, I don't know, more in keeping with my music - and to top it all, she keeps losing her broom."

Hungary jumped out of bed and flung open her bedroom door and glowered at the two speakers. "I have not broken your china, you idiot! And I am not a pig! Or fragile!"

Austria stepped back and blushed bright red, "Miss Hungary! I assure you absolutely that I would never ever speak about a lady in such a manner!"

Hungary realised why he was blushing. She was wearing a flimsy nightdress and not much else.

Holy Rome, who stood next to Austria, covered his eyes and also went bright red. "Cover yourself!" He said, much astonished.

"Oh get over yourself, jumped up little squirt!" She yelled but didn't cover herself, enjoying the effect she was having.

"We were actually talking about Italy," Austria told her indignantly.

"Oh my God! What a pair of idiots," Hungary replied. She looked from one to the other. Holy Rome had taken off his over-large hat and was covering his eyes with it. His strict religious upbringing obviously forbade him to look upon girls in nighties. Austria was trying to look anywhere but at her.

She had been living in Austria's castle for little over a month and found the whole household weird.

She'd found it no problem finding her way around the huge castle - which amazed Austria as he was frequently getting lost. She'd also found no problem at all in skiving off from her duties or establishing herself as boss of the household, although neither Austria nor Holy Rome - both of whom thought themselves as the 'boss' - had realised.

"I thought she was supposed to be in the servants' quarters?" Holy Rome asked Austria.

"Who's 'she'? The cat's mother?" Hungary asked, her hands on her hips. She enjoyed winding up Holy Rome. She thrust out her bosom and watched Austria back away.

"Does the cat have a mother? I thought we said no cats? Not after last time?" Holy Rome's peevish voice whined at Austria. His slick-backed blond hair came unstuck and flopped down a little. He squinted his blue eyes up at Austria.

"Miss Hungary decided, and I agree with her of course, that the servant's quarters were not fit for a descendant of Attila the Hun." Austria told Holy Rome. He shuddered at the memory of the conversation and fingered his collar.

Hungary nodded at them both. "Now if you don't mind keeping the noise down, I'm having a lie-in," she told them and flounced back into her bedroom and slammed the door.

She grinned to herself as she leaned against the door listening to their conversation as they hurried down the corridor.

"Tell me again why she's living with us, Austria? I find her uncouth and frankly, a little high-spirited. She really should be wearing more lady-like clothes as well."

"Holy Rome, she _was_ just wearing lady-like clothes!" Austria said to Holy Rome.

"Oh yes, well maybe not ones that are so… see-through!"

"Holy Rome!" Austria sounded utterly shocked.

Their conversation became inaudible to Hungary and her smile faded. To be honest, she was bored. There was just herself, Austria, Holy Rome, Italy and Gerald the butler who lived at the castle. A big Austrian woman called Big Bertha who lived in the nearby village occasionally came in and cleaned and cooked, but apart from that, Hungary had seen no-one. She had gone out riding everyday on Maximillian or she would have gone mad. She was slowly dying of boredom.

She had actually taken up cleaning to relieve the boredom. It was that boring. Italy provided some entertainment with his spaciness and general confusion. But this wasn't enough.

Holy Rome seemed to spend the days looking over maps and planning what Hungary thought were surely imaginary campaigns. The small Empire looked way too diminutive to actually fight. When he wasn't looking at maps and redrawing them to include more and more land, he was following Italy around at a respectable distance and sighing dramatically. Hungary wondered whether to tell him Italy was a 'he', but decided not to. She foresaw big problems there and wondered whether to warn Austria but then decided not to. She doubted he wouldn't listen anyway and perhaps there was going to be some entertainment in watching it play out.

Austria, however, spent his days playing or writing music on some kind of large wooden box that he sat at with the lid open. He often went days without food or sleep, but music would echo throughout the castle and make Hungary and Italy dance as they cleaned. Or didn't clean. Most of the time they didn't clean.

She wandered down to the stables with a bag of carrots for Maximillian. The warhorse was bored living in the castle, just as much as she was, but there was nothing she could do. They needed something to liven the place up. Something to shake the dust off them…

She sighed as she entered the stables and almost jumped out of her skin…

"Kesese! Got yer, Specs!" A voice she had not heard in many years yelled.

She pulled out her sword and within seconds had the offending intruder pinned against the wall, the point of her blade millimetres from his throat.

"Jesus!" The blond-haired intruder yelled and crossed himself, his shit-eating grin disappeared quickly. (Hungary had forgotten that this particular objectionable Nation was a devout Catholic, although how that teamed with his loutish behaviour - drinking and shouting - was beyond her.)

"Oh Prussia, it's you," she said resignedly. She pulled the blade back and put her sword back in its scabbard.

"Bloody hell, if it isn't boob-job!" Prussia yelled.

Hungary pulled her sword back out and had it against his throat before he'd had chance to say another word. "What?" She growled.

"Okay okay, calm down. I was just joking!" Prussia gulped. His white blond hair stuck up at all angles. His red eyes widened. He was wearing what looked to be his 'Teutonic Knights gear' as he called it.

"I forgot how annoying you are," Hungary said, lowering her sword. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"Messing with Specs. It's my reason for living."

"Really?" Hungary had forgotten that Prussia had various names for Austria - one being 'Specs'.

"Ja. What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've married him?" Prussia's mouth dropped open. "Jeez Liz. I thought you had more taste than that!" He began marching up and down and looked seriously annoyed. "I mean obviously you couldn't find me. We haven't seen each for a few weeks but mein Gott woman, couldn't you wait?!"

"A few centuries, Gil, centuries…"

"Really?"

"Really."

"I thought I only saw you a week last Tuesday."

"No."

"Anyway, jus' cos I can't marry no woman…"

"Any woman."

"What?"

"Any woman. You can't marry any woman." Hungary said, correcting him.

"Who said that?" He looked appalled and halted in his marching up and down.

Hungary began feeding Maximillian, who was eyeing the Prussian suspiciously. She forgot that the old warhorse did not like Prussians.

"You did."

"Anyway, jus' cos I wouldn't marry you, even though you begged…"

"No I didn't…"

"…Doesn't mean to say you should marry Four Eyes," Prussia finished.

"I haven't married Austria," she replied, giving Maximillian another carrot. "And can you stop shouting, you're upsetting my horse."

Prussia stopped and looked at her. "You didn't?" He looked a little relieved she noticed. "Not that I care," he added quickly.

"No, of course not."

"Did you ever sort out your you-know-whats?" He pointed at his chest.

"My armour?"

"No, your boob situation?"

"You're a boob!" She said. What was it with these Catholic men and obsession with her chest?

"Humph. Well seeing as you're now a girl…"

"I was always a girl!"

Prussia didn't listen, "I will of course protect you from Austria and his wandering hands."

"What on earth are you twittering on about?" Hungary laughed.

"You can come and live with me in Konigsburg. I'll kick Brandenburg out of the spare room." Prussia said decisively.

"Wow is he still living with you?" Hungary stared at him. She couldn't imagine what that was like. Probably bad.

Prussia wasn't listening - as always. He stomped out of the stables but unfortunately, Hungary could still hear him outside. "Of course Saxony will just have to put up with it as well, and Bavaria…"

Hungary followed him outside, "I can't believe those guys are still living with you. What are you now? A Duchy?"

Prussia stared at her and announced, "I will one day be the greatest Empire the world has ever seen!"

"Austria's an Empire," Hungary muttered.

"He's a nob. It's Holy Rome that's the Empire," Prussia told her. "But one day I, the great Prussia, the Iron Kingdom, forged from cannonballs…it's true I was!" He added and then said with conviction that nobody else felt, "I will rule the world." As if that was the end of it.

Hungary stood with her hands on her hips, "Do you want some apple strudel?"

Prussia nodded, "Ja, okay…" and followed her back to the castle.

* * *

"I'm not usually allowed in here," Prussia told her as he sat at the huge kitchen table, eating apple strudel and drinking ale.

"What? The kitchen?"

"I'm not allowed in the castle."

"Is that why they built a moat? To keep you out?"

"Ja, they said it was to keep out the Ottomans. But I have no idea why they'd want to keep out a load of furniture."

"Oh hahaha!" Hungary laughed, sarcastically. She stopped when she saw he wasn't joking. "So what happened with you then? Didn't you just lose a war against Poland?"

"Nein, we just didn't win," Prussia replied, slurping his beer.

"That's what I said."

"You know what? People think Poland is all cute and nice and gay, with his gay dude boyfriend, Lithuania, but I know different. He's a hard bastard."

"Is that the Poland who you always said fights like a girl?"

"Well… yes… but there's girls and then there's girls," Prussia said, looking her up and down. "At least he didn't pretend to be a man."

"He is a man!"

"I'm not so sure…" Prussia said mysteriously.

"He is!"

"Okay, calm down, woman."

Hungary growled to herself.

The door opened, Italy walked in, took one look at Prussia and screamed.

Hungary placed a hand over the small Italian's mouth, "Shush, Feli, it's just Pru!" She said and then removed her hand.

Feliciano took a deep breath and then continued screaming.

"Jeez, what's up with her?" Prussia asked and took another swig of ale. He looked completely nonplussed.

" _Him_ , Pru." Hungary said, correcting the Prussian and still trying to placate the Italian.

"Him? Get real, Italy's a chick." Prussia said, shaking his head.

"Stop screaming, Feli. It's just Pru!" She said.

"She always does this," Prussia said with a shrug and continued eating. "I think it's after that time me and my guys held that party in the ballroom while Austria and short squirt was off visiting their boss. It took us ages to get Bavaria down from that chandelier."

Finally, Hungary slapped the Italian.

"Wow, Liz. That's harsh. You shouldn't hit a girl!"

"But Miss Hungary. He's not allowed in the castle. Under any circumstances. Under pain of death. Probably mine…" Italy gasped.

"I let him in," Hungary told the Italian.

"Why oh why? Mr Austria will be very upset. After last time when he did something unmentionable to Mr Austria's violin."

"Italy, it's okay…" Hungary said soothingly.

"Yeah that was fun…" Prussia smiled at the memory.

"And Holy Rome said that if Prussia got in again then the whole of the Western Empire would fall to its knees. It would be like the Sack of Constantinople again. I don't know why a sack has anything to do with it though."

"Really?"

"Probably."

"I think you're fibbing," Hungary said.

"Anyway, they will both be really really upset. Even more than when I did that painting of Mr Austria's last boss with a pirate hat."

Prussia nodded, "That was great. That emperor was such a pain. Big-chinned imbecile," Prussia said, giving his scholarly opinion on the Hapsburg Emperors. "Hey! Have you seen Tony lately?" He suddenly asked Hungary.

"Tony?"

"Spain. Espana. Great Spanish Empire and all that jazz? Him and Specs were married for a bit."

"I've been a bit busy protecting my country from the Turks to catch up with the gossip," Hungary said drily.

Prussia nodded and carried on with no hint of stopping, "Ja well, haven't we all?"

"No, you've just been arguing amongst yourselves," Hungary said. "You should go out east and see for yourselves."

"What and run into Russia? I don't think so."

"Face it, Pru, the Austrian Hapsburgs have been protecting this region for centuries from the Turks!"

"You take that back!" Prussia said, jumping up and pointing at her.

"I'm only bloody here because the Ottomans have taken half my country. I told them to defend the southern part and they made a mess of it! They never listen to women," Hungary yelled. "Transylvania is now over-run. Where were you? Where were any of you? And now I have to live in this shithole with these boring old farts!"

There was silence and nobody realised Austria and Holy Rome had entered the kitchen.

"Transylvania scared me when he visited last century," Italy said, his face pale.

Austria coughed politely to announce his presence.

"What's up with you, Specs?" Prussia asked, trying to break the awkward silence or just being awkward. "Been singing in the Ladies' Choir again and lost your voice?"

Austria ignored him, "I'm sorry you feel like that, Miss Hungary," Austria said and he did actually look upset. "But I can assure we will do everything we can to restore your substantial lands to you," he said.

(Prussia sniggered at 'substantial lands'.)

Holy Rome nodded but was glaring at Prussia, "I hope he's not staying for the ball tomorrow?" He said.

"Ball? Bloody great!" Prussia yelled.

Austria swiped Holy Rome's hat off in annoyance, "What did you say that for?"

Prussia shoved them all aside, "Out of my way! I have to get ready! It takes time to look this good and I want to look bloody great for the ladieeeeees!" He yelled as he stomped out.

"You can borrow my lipstick," Hungary shouted after him.

"Thanks!" Prussia shouted back, before he'd realised what she'd said.

"Yay! A ball!" Italy danced up and down. "You can teach me waltz, Holy Rome," Italy told the diminutive Empire.

Holy Rome looked embarrassed and turned away, his face bright red.

Austria covered his face, "Oh God, this is going to be awful…"

Austria was quite right… It was.

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I'm dating the start of this story at about 1526 when Hungary was partitioned after losing half of the country to the Ottoman Turks.**


	3. Moonlight Sonata

**Acknowledgements: Obviously Hetalia characters are not mine and belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Thanks to all who have reviewed/favourited/followed: decries, EaglesFeather17, StealthSage,**

 **Vienna Waits for You**

 **Chapter 3 - Moonlight Sonata**

"What's this for, again?" Hungary asked.

She was in Austria's drawing room, surrounded by various hideously frilly materials (and those were just the things for Austria's suit). Masses of tulle, lace, and silk covered every surface, except for the harpsichord in one corner, one of three harpsichords that Austria owned. Why anyone needed three harpsichords, Hungary was unsure.

"This ball is to celebrate the marriage of His Majesty the Emperor to his bride, Isabella," Austria replied. He appeared even more uptight than usual; he was standing very still to keep his trousers from falling down. A seamstress from the town, "Heidi", was currently altering the waist, while one of her apprentices took Hungary's measurements. The Nation had reluctantly raised her arms above her head to allow this to occur, and they were slowly going numb. "We are all, of course, expected to attend." Austria said.

"Of course," Hungary said, gritting her teeth as the apprentice pushed her arms back to her sides. The same girl briefly vanished then returned with a ream of white silk, which she held up against Hungary's chest.

"What do you think, sir?" She asked.

"Best to avoid white, this is a bridal ball after all," Austria said. "And Elizaveta is not getting married." His cheeks flushed.

"I wasn't talking to you," the girl said.

Hungary suppressed a smile. "Roderich's right. Do you have anything in a nice blue?"

The girl shrugged and went to rummage through the fabrics. At about the same time, Italy rushed in, his maid's outfit in disarray. "Mr Austria! Mr Austria!"

Austria's trousers fell down from the surprise, revealing a pair of old fashioned drawers that had been patched up so many times Hungary could not determine the original colour of them. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"What is it, Italy? Did we run out of pasta again?" Austria looked down at the pants, seemed to realise the futility of pulling them back up (Heidi was nowhere to be seen) and sighed.

"No, it's much worse than that! It's so much worse!" Italy skidded to a stop, treading on a discarded green ballgown as he went. It was an improvement, Hungary decided.

"What's up dickheads? Roddy are those your pants on the ground or are you just pleased to see me?" Prussia strutted in, grinning manically. "Liz you're looking particularly… erm…" He faltered under her glare. "Manly?"

"Why are you here, Gilbert?" Austria asked.

"Why are _you_ here?"

"This is my house!" Austria yelled. Heidi reappeared with a needle and thread and pulled Austria's trousers up, side-eyeing him as she did so. Austria again sighed.

"Well yes, but for how long?" Gilbert asked mysteriously. "I'm here for my suit fitting, duh. I got a VIP ticket to the ball. And I get a plus one!"

"There are no VIPs! Moron. Yes I'll take a matching jacket," Austria answered one of Heidi's questions. "And no one likes you so you won't be using that 'plus one' now will you? No I have plenty of neckties, thank you."

"Kesese, he never throws anything away! I'm amazed he's called you ladies in. You should see his closet, there's crap in there older than me," Gilbert told Heidi. "One day they'll look in Roddy here's wardrobe and they'll find a long lost son of Ghengis Khan, the Ark of the Covenant and that money stash of his I've been trying to find for fifty years."

Austria huffed.

"Will the young man's suit be going on your tab, my lord?" Heidi asked Austria.

"Hell yeah, it will! Suit me up!" Gilbert said, dumping his overcoat on the floor.

"It will _not_!" Austria exclaimed. He looked ready to faint.

"Come on, man, you need to start spending your money! You've got to be running out of places to stash it. I found some old coins in an empty bottle in your wine cellar the other day. That ain't right," Austria was now leaving to change his shirt; Prussia followed him, still yelling. "You know it makes sense, you didn't give me a Christmas present last year so you owe me."

"I don't like you!"

Gilbert slammed the door behind them. Blissfully, there was silence.

"Miss? I have some designs you may want to consider for your dress," The apprentice handed Hungary a scroll.

"No, these won't do," Hungary said without looking at them. "I don't want a dress. How much is Roderich paying you?"

"Not a lot," the girl said.

"I'll double it if you make me a suit. Manlier than his. Extra if you make sure the jacket won't bunch up if I strap a sword to my back."

"Done." They shook on it. "Why are you taking a sword to a ball?"

There was an almighty crash from the next room, followed by Austria reappearing without his trousers. "I have been robbed by that scoundrel!"

Gilbert came out after him, grinning and wearing Austria's new trousers. "See, I told you they'd fit me! Ja, I'm keeping these. Later, losers!" Gilbert left the way he'd come in - awesomely.

"Wouldn't you want a sword with this nonsense going on around you?" Hungary gestured to Austria, who was again pantsless, and was now arguing with Heidi about whether he had to pay for the stolen trousers.

The apprentice shrugged. "Fair point."

* * *

A few hours later...

"Oh Roddy, it's magnificent! I didn't expect it to be so shiny and so big!" Hungary breathed.

Austria blushed bright red. "I know it is rather ostentatious isn't it?"

"Oh I think you're just being coy," Hungary replied. "Is it all yours?"

"Oh yes…" Austria said hesitantly.

There was a loud cough in front of them and then Prussia pretty much shouted, "No, it's not. It used to be, but it belongs to the Hapsburg emperors who are all big-chinned imbeciles."

They were all riding in a coach on their way to the ball. Ahead of them, a magnificent palace appeared at the end of a driveway. Hungary thought it would look well with a Hungarian cavalry charging up the driveway.

Austria turned to glare at Prussia. "You elected Charles as Emperor so I don't know what you're talking about," he told him.

"Ugliest man I ever saw," Prussia told Hungary.

"Stop talking about my boss like that!" Holy Rome suddenly piped up. He was sat next to Prussia. Unlike everybody else he wasn't 'dressed up' and he looked his usual angry, intense self.

"What's this in aid of again?" Hungary asked. The complexities of the Hapsburg royal court eluded her.

"It's a marriage ball," Austria explained.

"He married his cousin," Prussia said and pulled a face.

"It's so romantic," Italy breathed. Italy was sat in a big flouncy pink dress. Hungary wondered why on earth both she and Italy were there and why in the name of King Corvus, the Italian allowed himself to wear such a girly dress. She herself had been forced to wear a dress (even though it hurt Austria to have already paid for a suit for her, but he'd insisted), but it was the manliest dress she could find. She would have brought her crossbow if she could have gotten away with it but she didn't want to go through _that_ argument again.

She'd thought the Austrian aristocrat (although she'd doubted he was as royal as he said) was going to have kittens when he saw her sling her crossbow over her shoulder and she'd argued that she never went anywhere with it and that it was in her bedroom 'just in case'. He'd blushed at that and asked what she thought was going to happen to her here in his castle. Of course she'd just raised her eyebrows at him.

"I bet this is going to be a buzzkill," Prussia said, breaking into her reverie and as always using words that she'd never heard before (or wouldn't for around four hundred years).

"So why are you here then?" Holy Rome asked peevishly.

"We all know why _you're_ here," Prussia answered and glanced at Italy, who was oblivious.

Holy Rome crossed his arms, "If you don't shut up, I will run you through with my sword!"

"Roddy, calm your idiot Empire kid, will you?" Prussia said. "I'm not scared of you," he added to Holy Rome.

"He's not my kid!" Austria answered and then said to Hungary, trying not to look at her bosom, "Honestly, he's really not. I think he's some kind of cousin."

"Well I hope you don't marry him," Hungary said, thinking of Charles V.

Prussia snorted, "He's still married to Tony dude!"

Austria glared at him, "You shut up!"

"You're married to Spain?"

"Spanish Hapsburgs, dude. They're all married to each other. Dude Tony asks, again, when are you going to do the nuptials with him? He says he really misses you," Prussia said. He then, totally ignoring Austria's bright red blushes and Hungary's covered sniggers, looked at himself in the windows of the coach and said, "Man, I look so awesome. I'm so going to pull a chick tonight."

"Or a muscle," Hungary said.

Prussia glared at her. He was about to retort with something hilariously funny but they were getting out of the coach.

Austria got out, almost fell flat on his face, then held his hand out to Hungary to help her out. She ignored it and jumped down. Prussia took it instead. "Danke, mate," Prussia said, shoving Austria out of the way and swaggering towards the palace.

"She looks like a princess," Holy Rome said, looking at Italy.

Austria was gazing after Hungary, who was following Prussia up the driveway. "Ja, she does," he breathed. Austria thought Hungary looked like a princess but she sure as hell didn't act like one.

Holy Rome sighed.

"Feliciano! Get up you lazy Italian! You're going to miss the ball!" Austria called. In fact, wouldn't it be better if the girl did? She would probably cause havoc.

* * *

inside the palace...

"I thought this was going to be a free bar!" Prussia said to Austria. "You Austrians are such cheapskates!"

They were stood in the Palace ballroom, awaiting the arrival of the Emperor and his new bride.

"Listen, just shut up will you?" Austria said, straightening his cravat. "I think I might have a dance and…" but his attention was diverted from Hungary's lovely form (she was telling an Austrian aristocrat that his breath smelled of onion) to Italy being asked by some ignoramus why she was in a dress.

"Count Roderich! Why have you dressed your servant in a dress?" Asked the ignoramus.

"Your Highness," Austria bowed and was about to explain but Prussia butted in.

"Cos she's a girl, you nobber," Prussia retorted. "Who's this joker?" He asked Austria, nudging him so hard Austria spilled his drink.

"Archduke Ferdinand. He rules us while His Majesty is away," Austria hissed.

"Really?" Prussia did not look impressed. "Well he ain't away now is he?" Prussia nodded at the double doors as a herald blew a trumpet.

Archduke Ferdinand was about to say something but was shushed by Austria.

"Don't shush me, Austria," he said. "I am your better!" The Archduke said.

"Your better what?" Prussia said.

"Shut up, Gilbert or you'll go home!" Austria said.

"You ain't my dad!"

There was an altercation as Austria and Prussia ineffectually batted each other and Archduke Ferdinand, the Emperor's brother, tried to get between them.

"This is outrageous!" Holy Rome said to Austria.

"Their Imperial Majesties Emperor Charles and Empress Isabella of the Holy Roman Empire!" The herald announced.

"Isn't she his cousin?" Prussia asked.

Holy Rome was the first to go up to the Emperor, despite usually no-one approached the Emperor without being summoned. He bent on one knee in front of the royal couple, "Your Imperial Majesty… I am so pleased that you have married, marriage is a holy bond between…"

"What a loser," Prussia muttered as an aside to the Archduke.

"He's my brother!"

"Who? The little one in the big hat? That's Holy Rome, you dingbat."

"No, I mean His Majesty is my brother."

"Well that's your fault," Prussia answered.

Hungary stormed across the room in a swirl of angry lace, "I want to know what you intend to do about my country. You go about calling yourself King of Hungary and Bohemia but I want to know what you're going to do about the Ottomans!" She berated the Archduke.

"My dear lady erm…". He had no idea what to say. He had Prussia on one side and Hungary on the other.

"She ain't no lady. She's Hungary," Prussia told him. "I'd be a bit careful what you say. I once got an arrow in my butt for saying something about that mad flower she wears in her hair," Prussia told the startled Archduke.

Meanwhile Italy was telling the new Empress that there was no pasta and that his corset was making him itch.

Austria dragged him away, "I'm so sorry Your Majesty," he apologised. "I don't know why we brought her."

"Why is that boy wearing a dress?" The Empress whispered to her husband.

Holy Rome intervened, "Italy, would you do me the utmost honour in dancing with me?" He said and bowed with a flourish.

Austria closed his eyes. He wasn't sure if he could cope with teenage Empire romances. "Holy Rome, I don't think that's appropriate, after all, Italy is our servant."

But Italy hadn't heard and had seen the extensive buffet food being unveiled at the other side of the ballroom. "Food! I am starving! I hope there is pizza!"

"Phew…" Austria muttered. "Excuse me, Your Majesties," he said as he hurried off to rescue Archduke Ferdinand (or 'Ferdy' as Prussia was now calling him) from Hungary and Prussia.

"Come on Liz, let's dance," Prussia said and held out his hand to her just as Austria practically skidded up.

"What on earth is wrong with you, Roderich?" Archduke Ferdinand asked, leaving off the 'Count' bit.

Austria glared at Prussia's back as the Teutonic Nation led Hungary onto the dance floor.

"I hate him," Austria told 'Ferdy', referring to Prussia, "As if it weren't enough for him to put a groundhog in my harpsichord, and he blocked my chimneys so that my castle was smoked out and got my horse drunk just before that military parade…" Austria ran out of breath.

"Oh I heard about that. My grandfather told us when we were children. It went down as legendary. Does Prussia have special abilities when it comes to animals?"

"He is an animal," Austria said, watching Prussia dance what should have been a slow stately dance with Hungary whilst instead they leapt about like idiots. Hungary laughing wildly, with total abandon.

Austria's left eye twitched. "She was supposed to dance with me."," He said bitterly. He wished somebody would come up with a more stately dance, one where you could hold your partner to some proper music…

"Don't tell me you're in love with her, Roderich?" Ferdinand asked.

Austria glared at him, "You're not too old to put over my knee, young Ferdinand." But he didn't deny it.

Ferdinand was about to say something but then nudged Austria, "I think you need to sort out your Empire, Austria," he said, pointing to some altercation near the vol au vents.

"That's up to your brother, he's in charge," Austria said.

"No, I mean _your_ Empire…" he pointed over at Holy Rome who was arguing with a tall man who appeared to be asking Italy to dance. "Can't you control your servants? And why is Italy in a dress?" 'Ferdy' said.

"I know it's unusual for servants to come to balls, but I did promise the girl," Austria replied and hurried off.

Holy Rome, all of four feet ten was berating a tall Count or ArchDuke or Duke or something. "You cannot just ask a servant for their hand!" Holy Rome spluttered.

"I wasn't going to marry her, him, her…" the man looked confused.

"Then what are your intentions towards her?" Holy Rome insisted.

Italy stood by looking confused. "I don't mind dancing," he said, holding a soggy piece of pizza.

"I will deal with this! I will fight a duel! He has insulted your honour!" Holy Rome said and pulled out his rapier which was a thin blade about twenty centimetres long.

"Ooooh!" Italy dropped his pasta.

Austria grabbed the small Empire, "Excuse me," he said to the man, "You'll have to excuse him, he's a little touched."

"He's been touched?" Italy almost fell over with shock.

"Kesese!" Prussia laughed from across the room.

Austria took hold of Holy Rome's arm and tried to lead him away. "I won't go! It's not my bedtime yet!" Holy Rome protested.

"I'll fight him!" The man said and followed them.

"Oh no! Holy Rome! Please don't die!" Italy cried and ran after them, falling over his dress as he did so.

"So, do you come here often?" Prussia asked Hungary as they danced. She was leading.

"No, actually I haven't been here in a few centuries I think… Since Charles the Fourth I think."

"Oh yes he was a mad bugger as well."

"I don't think they've decorated since," Hungary said. "Oh, where's Austria going with Holy Rome?"

"Brilliant! It's a duel!" Prussia promptly let go of her. "Stay here, chick, I'll be right back!" He winked at her, straightened his coat, slicked back his hair and hurried off to 'see the little big-hatted dude getting his arse kicked'.

"Not bloody likely. I'm not missing the fun," Hungary replied and followed.

"Did you actually throw your glove down? If not then you can't have a duel," Austria was telling Holy Rome.

Holy Rome ignored him.

The man/prince/duke/arch-duke/count whatever was stood back to back with Holy Rome.

"Right take ten paces and turn and fire!" a very drunk Count told them.

"They don't have guns!" Austria said.

"Yeah, losers." Prussia said. He turned to Hungary, "Yo chick. When I'm even more awesomer than I am now, I'll have guns."

"Give it a rest," She sighed.

"Take ten paces and then duel!" Someone said.

"DU-EL. DU-EL. DU-EL. DU-EL!" The gathered crowd shouted.

It was like school all over again, Austria thought and that had been a nightmare with Switzerland bullying him and fighting his battles for him at the same time.

Holy Rome and the man took several steps forward for ten paces and then turned. Italy flung himself between them. "No don't do it! Don't kill yourselves over me! I'm just a pure innocent peasant!" He cried and then burst into tears, flinging himself onto the ground.

"Wow, what a loser," Prussia said.

"You're such a cynic," Hungary said to Prussia.

"Right that's it, everyone, let's break it up," Austria said with all the authority of a centuries-old Nation who has cornered the world's market in neckwear (he was ahead of his time, the only time he ever would be).

Everyone ignored him. Holy Rome and the man parried with a clash of steel as Italy leapt out of the way - showing the most energy than he usually showed in his sloth-like existence.

"Take that you rotter and scoundrel!" Holy Rome shouted as if he were Arthur Kirkland.

There was now quite a crowd in the courtyard, all baying and shouting for or against the two dualists.

"I bet you could kick both their arses, eh?" Prussia said to Hungary.

Hungary just grunted an agreement.

The duel would have gone on and on by the looks of it if it wasn't for a subtly placed rodent. Holy Rome, despite only coming up to the man's waist, was a demon with a rapier and had already drawn blood. He was also very fast on his feet. But the man had knocked Holy Rome's hat off - revealing the small Empire's slicked back blond hair.

"I must protest! Holy Rome, this is not fitting for a young Empire!" Austria cried.

Nobody knows who stuck the mouse up Italy's skirts. Austria's money (if he ever bet - which he didn't) would have been on Prussia.

"Aaaaaaaaaargh! There's something in my pants!" Italy shrieked and ran round and round in circles.

This called a halt to the duel as Holy Rome immediately tried to help him. "Stand still Italy…" he said.

"Stop messing with Italy's knickers, Holy Rome!" Prussia yelled and almost collapsed with laughing.

But Italy was running off with Holy Rome in hot pursuit.

"There's something in my petticoats!" Italy shouted, shaking his skirts as he went.

"Wait! Don't run away! I can help you!"

"Kesese! Little pervert!" Prussia said and handed Hungary his beer, "Here, hold my beer," he said and hurried after them.

Hungary shook her head, "Moron."

"Erm Miss Hungary?" Austria approached the Hungarian, "May I have the honour of this dance?"

She looked him up and down. "I suppose so," she replied.

He blushed pink and led her back inside through the huge double doors to the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers glittered above them, making it look as if Hungary was covered in diamonds. She didn't need diamonds, Austria thought as he placed a hand on her waist. He thanked the Lord for the incompetence of Hungary's King Louis, which had brought her to his door. He smiled dreamily as the music started, phasing out the sounds of Italy screaming about 'nasty mice' and Holy Rome pleading with the silly Italian to stop and calm down.

"I'll lead," Hungary told him firmly.

Prussia skidded back in. "My plus one's arrived!" He yelled excitedly.

It was Denmark, whose boss's daughter had just married Prussia's boss. (Although they denied of course that they themselves were in a personal union.)

"I love a good wedding!" Denmark yelled, slapped Ferdy around the face a few times (clearly as some kind of greeting), blew a kiss at Hungary and then vomited on the Empress's shoes. He then passed out.

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Charles V actually spent most of his time in Spain, at this point in the story Ferdinand, his brother, who later becomes Holy Roman Emperor, had named himself King of what remained of Hungary - as the rest was under the Ottomans.**

 **The King Frederick I of Denmark's daughter Dorothea did indeed marry the Duke of Prussia, Albert.**

 **Further chapters - Siege of Vienna, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth badasses, Francis I and his underhand dealings, Thirty Years War, the Schmalkaldic League, Napoleon and all that.**

 **Yes, Prussia (and others) are out of character, but it's just the way I write them - usually the Prussia, Hungary, Austria etc you see here are the same ones you find in my other stories so I'm consistently out of character. There's also an explanation why Prussia talks the way he does (I.e. Modern speech) and I'll address that at some stage…**


	4. Enemy at the Gates

**Acknowledgements: Obviously Hetalia characters are not mine and belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

 **Thanks to all who have reviewed/favourited/followed: decries, EaglesFeather17, StealthSage, decor.**

 **Vienna Waits for You**

 **Chapter 4 - Enemy at the Gates**

24th September 1529…

It was a Friday and should be the start of the weekend. Austria did not think that this weekend would be a very good one…

"Can I see, can I see?" Italy jumped up and down desperately. "I wish I was taller!" He said and sat down in a slump.

Austria turned to look at the Italian with a raised eyebrow, "You don't want to see, Feliciano. I have never seen such an army. They can be seen for miles, circling the city. My beautiful city!" Austria said.

Indeed there was. The huge 150,000 Ottoman Army could be seen encamped outside the city walls. It was only here, at the top of the cathedral tower, that the true size of their foes could be seen.

Italy burst into tears. Whether at the fact of being so short, or at the thought of the huge Turkish army, is unsure.

Hungary gripped her bow. "We will fight," she told Austria.

Austria nodded. He had no choice really. It was too late to run now. The Emperor had 'buggered off' (Hungary's uncouth words, not his) fighting France and had left Ferdinand in charge, who had then left some Baron Van Salm in charge. Austria had never heard of him. The weird 70 year old didn't even know how to use a napkin!

He fingered his sword, just recently strapped to his belt. It was far too heavy for him. He suspected that Hungary's was actually heavier than his. He hoped when it came to, that he didn't cry.

"To the war room!" Holy Rome said beside him and strode out as fast as his little legs could carry him, almost tripping over the prone Italian as he did so.

Austria sighed.

"At least the little guy's ready to fight, eh?" Hungary said.

Austria sighed again.

"These people are serious, they're not going to go away if you offer them a couple of pizzas," Hungary told them. She was whittling away at a few arrows and buckling on her armour.

They stood in the huge Castle dining room. Although no dining was going on.

"Oh no!" Italy said. "But I baked loads!"

"We have to strike! And strike fast!" Holy Rome exclaimed and slammed his small fist on the large map spread out on the table.

"Suleiman the Magnificent as he calls himself, pretty much destroyed my country and now he's come to take you lot as well," Hungary told them.

Austria swallowed nervously.

"According to the scouts, they set out in May from Constantinople," Austria said. "We've had plenty of time to prepare for this…"

"Wow! They're slower than Italians!" Italy said. "Why did it take them four months?"

"Be glad it did, Feliciano," Austria said solemnly.

"They're going to starve you into submission," Hungary continued.

Italy didn't hear this, "Maybe they stopped for ice cream?" He suggested.

"They are utterly ruthless, without feeling, they will take you and crush you," Hungary said.

"Or maybe they had to go back because they left the gas on?" Italy continued.

An elderly man in uniform came in and saluted Hungary, "Good news Sir, Mr Austria and Mr Holy Rome," he said. He ignored Italy as beneath notice. "Although His Imperial Majesty can't be here to defend us…"

"Nobhead," Hungary muttered, as she drew her sword (it was bigger than Austria's, Austria noted).

"He has sent mercenaries to defend the great city!" The man continued.

"Nicky, sweetie, we don't need them!" Hungary told the man.

Nicholas van Salm (for it was he) and in charge of the defence stared at her, "Well Sir, they are here and they are the Landsknechts!" He said, as if this was a good thing.

Hungary snorted, "Bunch of wandering minstrels with big…" she stopped when the door burst open and Prussia strutted in.

"I bet you thought Speccy-Four-Eyes here was going to have to get his sword out eh? Well don't you fret, Liz, I'm here now to save this dump of a city, eh, Italy?" He strutted past Austria, knocked off his glasses, knocked Holy Rome's hat off and then pinched Italy's arse.

Italy promptly dropped his duster.

"Don't tell me you're with these Landsknechts?" Hungary asked, giving him a shove.

"Hell yeah!" Prussia yelled.

Austria took his glasses off and wiped them on the edge of a lace handkerchief. "Oh dear. They broke my harpsichord last time they were here."

"You're not wearing their… erm… attachments I see," Hungary pointed out.

Prussia laughed, "Kesesese!"

Holy Rome covered his ears, "He sounds like a madman!"

"I don't need no attachments, Lizzie," he told her.

"Don't call me Lizzie," she replied.

He ignored her, "And there ain't no attachment big enough for my nine metres of awesomeness."

"What's he talking about?" Italy asked, picking up his duster and proceeding to dust, ineptly, Austria's precious harpsichord.

Austria snatched the duster from him, "Stop it. You don't need to do that. We're in the middle of a siege. Housework can be postponed for a while."

"Yay!" Italy danced round and round in jubilation and then stopped, "But what attachments was he talking about?"

Prussia pinched the Italian's bottom again, "Hey little girl," (Hungary smirked) "…Don't worry, Gilbert's here to save you!"

Italy looked at him with big tear-filled eyes (Holy Rome gripped his sword and growled under his big hat), "Can you get me some pasta?" He asked.

Gilbert stepped back, "I can get you some frankfurter!" He said and did some quite frankly weird and obscene pelvic thrusts in the Italian's direction.

"I like dancing!" Italy said, totally misconstruing the Prussian's designs.

"Sir, Mr Austria and erm… Mr Prussia," Nicholas Von Salm began to say hesitatingly (the 'Sir' was for Hungary), "The Landsknechts are in the courtyard below for your inspection."

"Oh no," Austria groaned.

He was right to groan.

* * *

Hungary, who wished she'd brought popcorn, watched as a battalion of the German mercenaries (or 'my main dudes' as Prussia called them) marched up and down in quite fabulous uniforms and the hugest codpieces Hungary (and the rest of them) had ever seen.

"Disgusting!" Holy Rome said and crossed himself fervently.

"Yeah, not very big are they?" Prussia said.

The Landsknechts wore six inch cod-pieces not in the usual sense but as a replica of an erect penis.

Italy stared at them, "Are they supposed to be like that?" He asked.

"Listen, little girl, they're the famous mercenaries who strike fear into the hearts of every army they fight," Prussia told the Italian.

"Maximillian formed the first regiment," Austria told Hungary as they watched the regiment march up and down the city square. "They are quite fearsome."

"More fearsome than your lot anyway," Prussia said.

"You shut your mouth!" Austria almost screamed. "Young Ferdinand plays the flute very well and I have to say that Clarence and Flavius of the Viennese Musical Troupe aren't really built for fighting."

"Not like my lads," Prussia said proudly.

"Right so now we have a siege, we have to ration everyone, ensure that we have food to last," Austria ordered, taking a large baguette out of Italy's hand.

"But… that was only my third breakfast!" Italy protested.

Austria ignored him and marched the maid towards the dungeon. "You know the rules. It was decreed that only one loaf per person and one bowl of pasta per day." He told Feliciano, who sobbed dramatically.

Holy Rome followed them in a swirl of black cape, "Wait! Don't!" He called.

"Greedy little bugger," Prussia muttered. "Yo Saxony and Bavaria!" He yelled at two individuals.

Hungary, who was about to go to Italy's aid and plead for his freedom, was distracted by two very drunk-looking Germanic regions. "I thought we were under siege and our food and drink was rationed?" She asked as one of them approached her swigging from a beer tankard.

"It doesn't count if you're Germanic!" Prussia informed her.

"How's about, hic, you and me, hic, go somewhere later, perhaps a tavern or hostelry where, hic, my pikestaff can meet your…" Saxony's endearing seduction was cut off by Hungary grabbing his codpiece and squeezing hard.

Saxony's rather fabulous moustache almost fell off (he would claim it wasn't fake but it really was). "Jeez, she's more manly than you said she was, Gilbert!" He shrieked.

* * *

Meanwhile in the dungeon…

"You'll stay in there while you think about what you've done!" Austria said in his sternest voice possible.

Italy shrunk into a corner of the dark dungeon, "It's not fair! I'm so hungry!" He cried. "It was only my third breakfast! I'm Italian I need my food! I wonder if Grandpa Rome will appear and help me?" The Italian said to himself as Austria slammed the door leaving him in darkness.

A tiny mouse scuttled over to him, looked at the wretched little maid and then ran off.

A slit opened in the door and Italy cried out in fear. "Please please, not the nasty Turks! I surrender! I'm sorry I haven't got a white flag but I could easily take off my underwear that's white… well it was white…" he said at hundred miles an hour.

The slit closed quickly and on the other side of the door, Holy Rome, teenage Empire, blushed madly. "I will get you out, little Italy, I will release you from your prison and gain your freedom." (Italy had been in the dungeon less than half an hour.)

"Holy Rome!" Austria called, "You are needed in the War Room."

"Keep the faith, little Italy, I'll be back soon," Holy Rome whispered to the steel door.

Italy was meanwhile scuffling about trying to make a white flag.

* * *

The first of the cannonballs hit the Viennese streets at 3.00 pm that afternoon. Probably after the Ottoman army had had their lunch.

"I wish Switzy was here," Prussia muttered to Hungary as they ran down the streets, trying to calm the peasants.

"Ah that's nice, so you can stand shoulder to shoulder against the dastardly enemy?" Hungary said, panting, holding her bow and ushering a peasant woman and her children into shelter.

"No, so he can get clobbered by one of those cannonballs," Prussia replied.

"The Emperor is fighting France, so we are on our own in this," Nicholas Von Salm told them, when Hungary and Prussia finally burst into the War Room.

"You mean he's fighting France? Well he's a big gay lady, isn't he?" Prussia said, nonsensically. He was covered in dust. His red eyes were shining. He loved a battle and was literally itching to get out there and charge the Turks.

Another cannonball hit the city with a boom and the castle shook.

"You mean France is gay or his Majesty…oh never mind…" Austria said and shook his head.

Holy Rome was glaring at Austria and muttering things about 'freedom' under his breath.

"What's up with short stuff?" Prussia pointed out.

Everyone ignored him.

"We have had a message from Suleiman the Magnificent," Nicholas began to say.

"Why is he Magnificent?" Prussia asked.

Hungary spat on the floor at his name.

Saxony shrugged. Bavaria, struggling to keep his false moustache on, and having taken off his ridiculous codpiece, answered, "Because of his big hat."

"I have a big hat!" Holy Rome said. His chair was so low, they could only see the top of his hat over the table.

"Shut up, kid," Prussia replied.

Nicholas carried on as if they hadn't spoken, although he was rapidly getting a headache. He wasn't getting paid enough for this. "He has offered us terms of surrender."

"Tell him to kiss my arse," Prussia replied.

"Shut up, Gilbert, let the man speak," Austria said.

"You're surely not considering this, are you?" Hungary said.

"Of course not!" Austria said.

"Yeah he is!" Prussia exclaimed.

"I'm absolutely not! I could not bear those ruffians in my castle rummaging through my underwear drawers."

"You and your drawers…" Prussia muttered darkly.

"Tell Suleiman the Magnificent to stick it up his arse," Hungary told Nicholas Von Salm.

"Yeah, Nicky, tell him he ain't so magnificent and to shove his surrender message up his big bottom," Prussia said, nodding in agreement.

The messenger duly noted this down, "Shove it up his large bottom…"

"Extensively large bottom. Is that why he's called the magnificent?" Prussia asked.

"Well it might be because he has a large topiary bush," Austria replied.

"Does he?" Holy Rome asked. The first time he'd contributed.

"I believe so," Austria said, looking across at the teenage Empire. "Do you want a cushion to sit on?"

Holy Rome shook his head (they could just see the top of his hat shaking furiously). "I have business to attend to," he replied, jumping down.

"And the roads in the city, Sir?" Sir Nicholas asked Hungary. "The cannonballs have torn them up. It's causing havoc."

"Tear up the roads," Hungary ordered. "Then they won't do so much damage. Job done."**

**They actually did do this - tore up the roads so that when the cannonballs hit, they just hit soil.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Austria whispered to the person sat next to him.

Unfortunately it was Saxony, who stared at him and then said, "She could kick all our arses."

* * *

Down in the dungeons...

"I've brought you some food, little Italy," Holy Rome breathed excitedly and shoved a bowl of something undistinguishable from cat food through the slot in the door.

Italy jumped up and picked up the bowl with eagerness. "Thank you, strange person. I haven't eaten in days and days. I'm so hungry!" He wailed. (It had been four hours.)

Italy, tears rolling down his cheeks in thankfulness, took a bite and then threw the bowl across the floor. "What is this crap? I can't eat this! This is terrible!"

Holy Rome shrank away from the door, his heart broken. He fled, his eyes full of tears, his heart burning. In fact, his hat was burning, as a cannonball hit the wall behind him, knocking a torch over and settling fire to his hat.

Saxony and Bavaria ran down the corridor with buckets of water, "Out of the way!" One of them shouted.

The other, bizarrely was shouting "Ner ner ner ner." Like a demented idiot. (It was actually the sound of a siren, but he didn't know it at the time as sirens had not been invented yet.)

"We'll sort this!"

One of them threw the bucket of water over Holy Rome, the other threw a bucket over the cannonball that smouldered in a corner. They then peered out of the new hole in the wall. "Wow. Good aim." They shouted at the Turks.

Holy Rome stomped away, muttering to himself about ungrateful Italians.

"Please help me! I'm trapped in this prison!" Italy called from his cell.

Saxony flung open the door (it wasn't even locked, whether Austria forgot or deliberately left it unlocked to see if his dozy maid would try the door, the author of this tale does not know). "Hahaha! Look at this! Is that you, Italy?"

"Si, I have been held against my will by nasty Papa Austria," Italy moaned.

"Ja, he can be a right twat when he wants to be," Bavaria agreed.

"Come on, dude," Saxony said, standing in the doorway, holding out his hand. (He was probably trying to sound like Gilbert.)

"Dude's a girl," Bavaria pointed out to his brother German.

"Don't be daft, dude's a dude."

"Dude's in a maid's outfit," Bavaria said logically.

"I thought Italy was a dude?" Saxony said.

"You're thinking of the other one," Bavaria said.

"Si, that's my brother, Romano," Italy said, emerging into the corridor. He didn't correct them. He saw no need to. Austria treated him like a girl, so he decided he must be.

"Ah, that's what I'm thinking of," Saxony said.

"Of course she's a girl, why would Austria put her in a maid's outfit otherwise?" Bavaria said. "I was always the intelligent one." He added to Italy. "Do you come here often?"

"Only when Papa Austria locks me away for eating too much food," Italy said.

"You're hilarious!" Bavaria said. "We'll go on a date later," he added.

"It's September 1529," Italy replied dimly thinking Bavaria was asking him what date it was.

* * *

"Oh when will this siege end?" Austria said. "My musicians can't get here for the concert we have planned on Saturday."

"Shut up you big lady," Prussia replied. "The Ottomans will hear us."

They were creeping along the tunnel beneath the castle.

"I honestly am not sure this is good idea. You say there's a man selling food out in the countryside beyond the city?" Austria asked.

"Austria, for goodness' sake, shut up. Someone will hear us. We'll be beneath their camp now," Hungary said. "And you! Will you stop bloody messing about with that codpiece or I'll tear it off!" She whispered furiously to Bavaria.

The tunnel was the one Hungary had travelled through months earlier. It was like a warren really with sub-tunnels running beneath the city itself into the outlying countryside. Only Prussia seemed to know the way and he swaggered along in front them.

Austria, who got lost in his own ballroom, was not so sure about all this. "So this is just to buy some sauerkraut?" He said uncertainly.

"Ja ja…" Prussia said and winked at Hungary.

"I thought we were here to do a rear charge?" Saxony asked.

"Shut up, you're just a region, you're not a Dukedom like me," Prussia said. "Although one day I will be a Kingdom! The Iron Kingdom… I like that. I must write that down in my diary…" he added mysteriously to himself.

"Hey, what's this?" Saxony said, falling over something.

"Stand back, men!" Prussia said and stepped forward.

"Oh God. I wish I'd brought my spectacles," Austria said. Hungary stood next to him with her sword drawn (which was still bigger than his).

It was a stick of something with a string attached. They all looked at it suspiciously, Saxony leaned forward. "Fancy leaving that there!" He said, almost touching with it his lit torch.

Prussia pulled him back quickly.

"Charges!" Hungary hissed. "Bunch of bastards!" She swore.

"Charges?" Austria said. "They're going to charge me? For what? For laying siege to Vienna? How much are they saying I have to pay?" He looked outraged and actually drew his own sword and glared into the darkness.

"Explosives!" Prussia said.

"All the way along the tunnels!" Hungary said as she marched on, poking at the ropes.

"We need to get out of here," Bavaria said and pulled his brother along with him.

Hungary ignored them and began dismantling the wicks leading to the black powder. "Come on! They might light them at any moment!"

"All the more reason to make big steps this way," Saxony replied from the other end of the tunnel.

"I cannot bear such utter destruction of my beautiful city!" Austria and helped her, quite ineffectually really. Wiping away powder with a lace handkerchief.

"It's gonna blow!" Prussia said and pulled the two Nations along with him down the tunnel.

Indeed it did. But the Ottomans, as well as not finding all the tunnels, had made a grievous error.

* * *

"Well that was bloody fun!" Prussia announced as they emerged into the main square of the city from a sewer hole, black from tip to toe.

Austria and Hungary clung together and then quickly jumped apart.

"Kesese! I haven't seen you look so scruffy, Specs, since I pushed you down that mineshaft."

"It was a silver mine," Austria told Hungary, as if this made it better.

They were about to say something else when they were drowned out by the sound of hundreds of cannons.

The Ottomans had decided this was the day that they would fire all their cannons at once.*

(* They did this on 26th September)

"What's that all about then?" Prussia asked as buildings fell around them (he made it sound as if it was a mere inconvenience). Walls shattered. The streets, now just soil, were reduced to holes.

Austria didn't answer, but pulled Prussia and Hungary along back to the castle.

Italy was waiting for them, along with Saxony and Bavaria and over a hundred Landsknechts. And Holy Rome who was trying to cover the Landsknechts' codpieces with tea-towels.

"I was so worried!" Italy said, wringing his hands.

"Sir, the bombardment… I think this is Suleiman sending us a message," Nicholas (Nicky) Van Salm said to Hungary. He clearly thought that she was the one in charge.

She could barely hear him for the sound of explosions. "Get the people under cover in the shelters," she ordered. "Get a message out that Suleiman can do what he wants. We do not surrender."

"I do!" Italy said, waving a white tea-towel.

"No you don't," Austria said gravely. "Not to these people. You will be beheaded or put on a stake or…"

"I like steak!" Italy said.

* * *

Some days later…

"It's a bit shit is what this is," Prussia said, looking out at the huge Ottoman Army. "We can't even bloody attack. The tunnels are gone and we can't do a cavalry charge!"

"Is it cos it's raining?" Hungary said.

They stood atop the church tower and looked out at the Viennese plains. It had been raining for five days solid. Heavy remorseless rain. English rain.

"Rain doesn't bother us German mercenaries. We have cagoules," Prussia told her proudly.

The Ottomans were stuck in their trenches. The explosive charges beneath the city had meant the Austrian army could not get out but had also meant that the Ottomans were now also stuck and could not get in. Huge craters around the city were testament to where the explosives had gone off, hampering any cavalry charge now by Suleiman's army. Waist-deep in thick mud, they looked miserable. They were also running short of food.

"They're nearly out of pasta," Italy told them confidently. He was chewing something.

"How come you have food?" Hungary asked.

"I sold my hat to pay for it," Holy Rome said, standing next to Italy and looking at him with adoration.

"And who told you they're running short of food?" Hungary asked, ignoring the short empire for minute.

"Fat Hans, the baker from Gunterstrasse, told me," Italy replied.

Austria, Hungary and Prussia all exchanged mystified looks.

"Right ladies, I can't stand around here all day knitting, I'm off to kill me some Turks!" Prussia announced suddenly and swaggered out and down the winding tower steps.

"He's right, let's do this!" Hungary said. She turned to Nicholas Van Salm, who was wondering why he'd been left in charge of these mad Nations. "Call the troops, we charge them."

"20 pounds of gold a day," Austria said.

She ignored him and followed Prussia.

Austria turned to Nicholas. "I say we wait until the rain has stopped."

So they did…

5th October, the rain stopped and the Ottomans made one last charge towards the city and the Austrian army rode out to meet them, dodging the holes as best they could.

"Don't cry don't cry don't cry…" Austria muttered to himself as a horde of huge Turks came charging towards him through the mud. He wasn't on his horse. The horse (named Charlemagne) had refused to come out of its stable. He wished he was wearing some waterproof boots, the mud was just awful (Austria, not the horse). He wiped his spectacles and brandished his sword.

"For Austria!" He decided to yell as he thought of his countrymen and women who had been slaughtered by these dreadful people. Just as he was about to be mown down, a large warhorse rode alongside him and a strong arm reached down and flung him onto the back of the saddle.

He was about to thank the burly warrior who had saved him when he realised the burly warrior had a long brown plait with a white flower in their hair.

"Hang on Roderich!" Hungary told him over her shoulder as he clung to her waist. The horse galloped full tilt towards the Turks. Hungary, not even holding the reins, brandished her deadly crossbow, took aim at a huge Ottoman warrior. "Come on, Maximillian," she told the horse. "Let's do this!"

"God she's wonderful," Austria marvelled, clinging to her for dear life.

He wondered if he should marry her.

Behind them, Prussia and his 'dudes' - mainly Landsknechts and their terrible cod-pieces - charged towards the Turkish Army. Prussia was trying to get his cagoule off over his head - it was looking a little stupid over his armour but England had sent it with wishes from one of his little brothers (Wales or somebody) telling him it was de-rigeur for English and Welsh soldiers.

Holy Rome watched all this from atop the bell tower. He had been 'grounded' and not allowed to fight. Besides he'd sold his hat and Austria had taken his sword from him. He was supposed to be protecting Italy, but Italy was currently down in the city square negotiating with Fat Hans for food (using the last of Holy Rome's pocket money).

Saxony and Bavaria were arguing about who would wear their shared suit of armour (as they were 'knights' they'd had to buy their own and of course they'd spent most of their money on beer). In the end, Saxony wore the top half and Bavaria wore the bottom (he said he needed to protect his 'assets'). They looked ridiculous.

"Seven!" Hungary shouted over her shoulder at Prussia.

Prussia, who had managed to get his cagoule off, sliced the head off an unfortunate Turk who got in his way. "Two!" He lied.

"Nine!" Hungary yelled as her arrow pierced two more enemies.

Austria felt rather ill but did not dare vomit on Hungary. She would surely kill him and it probably would not look good. He was having problems staying on the horse, never mind swinging his sword.

"Three! And a half!" Prussia replied and flung himself into the battle. He was darned if he was going to be beaten by a girl. A girl who used to think was a bloke. A girl who could probably kick his arse. He actually tripped over Bavaria and accidentally stabbed an Ottoman warrior who looked disgusted that he'd died merely by accident. "Four!" Prussia added.

"Half?" Hungary wheeled the horse around and galloped back to Prussia. 20,000 Ottomans, realising that Hungary ('the Scourge of Suleiman' as she was being called) was no longer mowing them down and who had been on the retreat, turned back round and attempted another attack. It did not last long.

She fired several arrows behind her - killing six without looking. "Oh my God!" Austria said, almost falling off Maximillian, who snorted at him.

"Yeah, the 'half' one was already dead," Prussia admitted to Hungary as she reared at him. He flung his left arm back and accidentally knocked out a huge Ottoman warrior who had been about to ambush him.

Hungary snorted and wheeled back round to face the Ottoman forces, who stopped dead and then began to run back the other way.

"Yeah! And don't come back!" Prussia yelled after them as the Turks turned and fled, battling through snow and terrible hardships back the way they came.

* * *

Several hours and several dead Turks later…

"I'm glad that's over!" Austria said, taking off his sword and placing it carefully on the table. "Italy, could you polish this for me for next time? I really hope there isn't a next time."

"Yer big girl," Prussia muttered.

Hungary, who was disappointed that the Ottomans had 'run away', was firing arrows into a suit of armour in the corner of the room. There was a resounding 'yelp' and she realised she was hitting Bavaria or possibly Saxony, but carried on anyway.

Italy took hold of Austria's sword and decided it would make a great pizza slicer and proceeded to demonstrate this with the pizza he had bought from Fat Hans earlier.

Unfortunately, as the Italian swung the sword around, it went whistling out of his hands and hit poor Nicholas Van Salm in the head. 'Nicky' was to die of his wounds later (probably gratefully). However, history kindly tells us he died from a falling rock while defending the city during the siege and not by an idiot Italian in a maid's outfit.

 **Author's Notes…**

 **The Ottomans would return in 1683 for another Siege of Vienna, but then Austria was saved by someone else. But that's a story for another day.**

 **Sorry this took a long time and is a long chapter but a lot of history to get through (most of which is true…) I used various sources for inspiration.**

 **Although I'm trying to use classical music titles for each of the chapter titles for this fic, I couldn't find one that summed this chapter up…**


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